Courting Disaster
by Shuvcat
Summary: The tale of Edna Mae, the Mayor's wife.
1. Courting Disaster

## Courting Disaster  


### by Melanie Alford, © 1999 

##### A story that takes place post-"Choices"  
This is a work of fiction based on the tv show _"Buffy the Vampire Slayer"_ created by Joss Whedon. All names, characters, ect. are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended. 

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** The walls were crumbling brick, and thick curtains of cobwebs coated the crevices of either side of the narrow stone stairwell. Faith's black combat boot carefully chose where it stepped; she was so far below the ground that there was actual slime on the steps and the walls. The lighter she'd brought -- there were no lights in the stairwell -- flickered precariously in the dank air. She shuddered inside her black jean jacket; it was icy cold and black down there. Time was she would only go this deep into this kind of creepy environ to hunt vampires, but those days were gone. Her alliance with Mayor Richard Wilkins III had taken care of her Slayer duties for good. Now she only ventured into the deep dark places of Sunnydale on missions from his Honor, to recover magical trinkets and kill off unwanted guests and the like. Tonight, though, it wasn't even an errand of the Mayor's that brought her down here. No, Faith was descending into the dark, unused corridors beneath City Hall simply because....she was bored. Why she had decided to come here, of all places, she couldn't say. She was not the kind who gave a damn about things that didn't concern her, and she could definately think of at least two other things she'd rather be doing...but Mayor Wilkins didn't need anybody assassinated at the moment, and all the hot young Sunnydale boys seemed to be either on vacation or dead. So she found herself wandering down the broken steps, further and further, until she reached the bottom and found a huge, heavy steel door. Questioning why even as she did it, she slammed her shoulder against the door until it gave with a metal groan. Once inside, she was briefly glad to find a dust covered light switch, which delivered grimy yellow light from a series of bare hanging bulbs dangling from the ceiling, half of them out, the ones that did work dim. Doors that hadn't been opened in fifty years lined the hall. She pushed a strand of hair back with a black fingernail, peering around. It was dead silent down there. She went to the first door she saw and turned the knob, peeking in. Piles and piles of boxes. Records, no doubt. Dull stuff. She shut the door and went on. As if sleepwalking, she passed the other doors, going to one about five doors down, twisted the knob and happened upon a storage room full of junk. Crap from probably the last two hundred years was piled up in there. For no particular reason, she stepped into this room. There were filing cabinets, boxes of more records. Furniture; the remnants of an old-fashioned four poster bed. Wardrobes, a clothing dummy, and -- Faith perked -- an ancient-looking broadsword lying on a table. She picked it up, hefting its weight; it was heavy even for her strong arms. "Damn," she whispered appreciatively, admiring the weapon. Designs were engraved on the tarnished blade, and what looked like Spanish words were inscribed on the hilt. Under the sword lay ratty, moth-eaten duds that looked like something Columbus might have worn to a scalping party, and on these sat a badly rusted but still intact Spanish conquistador's helmet. _Crash._ Faith had nerves of steel, but that one made her jump a mile. Her Slayer's instinct kicked in and she wielded the sword, ready for whatever might be in the room with her. She tensed at the sight of glowing eyes staring at her from the dark. "Did you ever pick the wrong person to stalk," she grinned as the thing came out of the dark toward her. It was an ordinary black cat. Faith lowered the antique sword, swearing under her breath. The cat meowed mournfully, then turned away and jumped off the pile of boxes it had been perched upon. It padded purposefully away, and Faith had had enough. With a final glance at the cool-looking sword, she set it down and made for the door. The door was gone. Faith stared, confused at the wall she'd thought the door was on. She looked around -- none of the walls had a door. That was stupid; there had to be a door. She'd gotten in, hadn't she? _"Meow."_ The cat was sitting on another pile of boxes now, watching with interest. As Faith looked, it dropped to the floor and rubbed up against a pile of huge frames leaning against a wardrobe. The frames toppled over with another tremendous crash. Faith made a face. "Make all the mess you want, I'm not cleaning it up." But something made her walk over and look at the frames nonetheless. About five heavy oak frames had fallen over, revealing an especially large one lying on its side. Faith had to tilt her head to see that it was a painting of a dude that looked quite a bit like the Mayor, or his grandad at least, since the brass plate read 1903. By the man's side in the portrait was a woman in a stiff looking dress. The woman was pale and prim, her expression severe, her raven hair in a tight bun. Faith frowned. She felt like she recognized the face. "Beautiful, wasn't she?" said a voice. Faith whipped around to see a figure standing behind her. The figure was draped in a heavy black robe, and a death-white, doll-like face shrieked out from the darkness. Huge, shadow-rimmed eyes stared blackly, and she -- for it was a woman -- she did not blink at all. That plus the rags tied in her hair gave her the look of a creepy 30's Minnie Mouse drawing; with those overly wide, dark, dead eyes. A smile the color of dried blood ripped across the chalky face as she smirked at Faith, and then at the portrait. "Wicked creature -- absolutely hideous. She was the bride of Mayor Wilkins at the turn of the century." Faith, initially startled at the stranger's arrival, decided to roll with it, raising an eyebrow. "How many Mayors did this family crank out, anyway?" she cracked. The mysterious woman turned on her with a sharp smile. "Child, even you can't ignore the obvious for long. You know, in your heart, there has only been one Mayor in this town all these years." Faith shrugged. "Man's got skills," she said. "I wouldn't mind looking that good at a hundred odd years." The woman's eyes turned darker. "Be careful what you wish for," she advised bitterly. Her voice was a dusty rasp, and she spoke with great exertion, as if dragging her words up out of some bottomless pit. Faith rolled her eyes. "Uh, you obviously haven't been out much in the past century, but you've gotta know, that line went out with horse-drawn buggies." She spoke it sarcastically, even though she knew she probably wasn't far off when she said _century._ The stranger grinned horridly at her. "You clearly delight in your brilliance," she said, with more than a bit of sarcasm herself. "Sit down, child. I will tell you the story of the last unfortunate girl who crossed the Mayor's path." Faith wasn't about to stick around jawing history with a ghost. "No thanks," she said, turning to leave. "I've got better things to do." "You'll not get far without a door," pointed out the dark being. Faith would have knocked a hole in the wall if there had been anything big enough to do it with. Maybe the sword....nah, it was too rusted to get very far through plaster and wood. There was no window in the room either. She was trapped listening to this creaky old crone. "I'm in hell," she groaned, throwing up her arms. The robed woman grimaced. "You have no idea what hell is," she assured the girl. 

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Edna Mae Mickelwhite's family, a well-to-do New England clan, moved out West at the turn of the century. The Wild West was by this time considerably tamer, but Thibault Mickelwhite was a cautious man. Unfortunately, he was not cautious enough: passing on towns with names like SixGun Flats and Bullskull, he settled his family in the safe-looking new township of Boca del Infierno. Yes, there was that unpleasant rumor about it being built on top of some cursed ground, and an unsettling number of disappearances were whispered about. But these were small worries compared with the train robbing and gambling and shooting going on in other cities, and so the Mickelwhites, a good Christian family of six (four daughters; Constance, Prudence, Edna Mae, and Sophie) immediately set about establishing their place in the town's social circle. It would never do to settle for less than top rung of the cultural ladder, therefore Mr. Micklewhite was thoroughly excited to recieve the family's first social invitation in the mail their first week in town. "Who is it from, Papa?" exclaimed Mrs. Micklewhite as the girls clustered excitedly around. Mr. Micklewhite was so proud he was about to pop a brass button. "The very Mayor, no less!" he announced. It was a Saturday picnic in the park. Carmelia Micklewhite was not pleased with this. "Everyone else in the God-fearing world holds a picnic on a Sunday," she grumbled. "I've never even seen the man in church. Can you imagine! A pillar of the community who doesn't attend church?!" Edna Mae, well past the age of her debutante ball, found herself increasingly weary of her mother's endless grumbling. "Perhaps he goes to a different church, Mother," she sighed, fiddling with the lace on her rose-colored dress. A porcelain-pale young woman, with thick raven hair and high, proud cheekbones, Edna Mae was not looking forward to another dull afternoon of lumpy cake and elderly politicians in starched collars. "Which is why she was so startled when her father finally introduced them to the Mayor," rasped the woman in black. "The man had such eyes. They changed color, you see -- they never seemed quite the same, turning from blue to grey to green, sometimes even while you were looking at him." The dark lady's white face softened. "Absolutely mesmerizing, they were --" Faith rolled her eyes. She herself had thought the man was kind of sweet in a goofy sort of way more than once, but geez. "I think I'm going into sugar shock," she grumbled, not real eager to hear about her boss's love life. The woman cast her dark, dead glare on the girl. "You should hope you live long enough to find an older man attractive," she sneered. "Suffice it to say Mayor Wilkins was much younger then than now. Oh, yes, he has cheated death --" a bitter scowl darkened the woman's face "-- but he is aging, even now. Much as he would wish otherwise. Where was I?" "Edna was getting turned on by the Mayor," sighed Faith, resigning herself. The woman wrinkled her nose cattishly. "You really should get your mind out of the gutter, dear. It's not at all ladylike." 

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"Thibault!!" Mayor Wilkins came over to the Micklewhites grinning, hand extended. "Wonderful seeing you here, old man. Is this your lovely wife Carmelia? And these must be your girls --"Edna Mae politely shook hands, still rather stunned by how handsome the man was. A peculiar handsomeness, to be sure -- pale and angular, like a harlequin jester was what sprang to her mind; subversively, eerily charming. "An honor, your...Honor..." Edna murmured self-consciously. He smiled at that. He seemed to linger over her hand as well -- maybe he just forgot to let it go. "That's a very lovely dress," he complimented her. Edna blushed, unwillingly. "Father had it imported from Paris," she blurted, rolling her eyes -- what a brilliant reply, she berated herself. Mr. Mickelwhite didn't like anyone talking to his daughters for very long. "Ahem, well, Mr. Mayor, I believe we'll be moving to the buffett to sample some of this delectable food," he excused them. "Papa, may I stay and talk with Mayor Wilkins alone awhile?" Edna Mae asked out of the blue. Thibault Micklewhite froze like a dog spotting a fox. Two of his daughters were already courting, he had no desire to lose another of his girls. "Unchaperoned? I don't know...." Edna Mae uttered an exasperated sigh. "Father, for heaven's sake! If I'm not safe with the city mayor, who am I safe with?" Mr. Mickelwhite didn't answer that. This picnic was the first time he'd actually met the man, and he couldn't say he liked him much at all. A cold chill had fallen on Mickelwhite when they'd shook hands, and that seemingly permanent eerie smile unnerved him. There was nothing wrong with being cheerful, of course, and the man _was_ a politician, but still... But in the end he let her go. "Your father's a cautious man," the Mayor noted when her family had finally wandered over to the buffet table. Edna Mae smiled demurely, swinging her bamboo parasol. "Last year a minister came courting my sister Constance," she related. "Papa insisted on chaperoning them every...where... they...went." She made a face. Mayor Wilkins chuckled. "Is that a fact?" Edna Mae beamed. "Yes, sir, indeed it is.""Call me Richard," he told her. She looked up and immediately looked away shyly. He was gazing at her like she was some dark, pretty jewel, and she was unused to that. She looked around the park to find something else to talk about. "What an unusual statue!" she exclaimed. It was over his shoulder; a small, twisted stone figure on a brass pedestal, a few yards from the grandstand. "Now _that,_" the Mayor announced, "is old. One of the first ornaments in this field. I put that here...a long long time ago. Had it brought over from Spain. My first trick." He chuckled after this cryptic comment. Edna Mae approached it, her expression going from enchanted to confused. "What is it?" It appeared to be of a small boy, arms raised as if to fend off a hawk, face upturned as if... "That's curious," she murmured, frowning. "He -- it almost looks like it's... screaming..." A blaringly loud bark caused her to jump. A nervous-looking young man was up on the podium, speaking haltingly into a megaphone. "Citizens of Boca del Infierno, please welcome --" "Goodness, I almost forgot!" The Mayor cast a smile at her. "You'll excuse me, Miss Mickelwhite. Time to start the feeding." With an odd smirk he climbed the wood steps and assumed his place on the grandstand. The Mickelwhite sisters joined Edna Mae at the foot of the steps. "So what _was_ so important that you had to speak with the Mayor, Edna?" taunted Prudence, gnawing on a chicken leg. Sophie looked nervously around. "I don't like this," she whimpered. "Do you feel it? There's a weird look in the sky...the air feels so..." Edna Mae didn't answer. Her eyes were glued to the Mayor as he began to address the crowd. "Well, what a fine day for a picnic, huh? I can't tell you how pleased I am to see so many people here today. The energy of this crowd...why, I bet it could power something the size of San Francisco." He uttered a peculiar giggle. "He's certainly a cheerful sort, isn't he?" sighed Mrs. Micklewhite, determined to find something positive about the man. Edna Mae started. The ground beneath her feet, for a split second, seemed to shift under her. "Did you feel that?" she asked Sophie. The Mayor was still going on. "-- so what more can I say, other than thanks for coming to our little picnic. You'll never know how important it is to have so many souls here. And now...well, eat up!" No sooner had he finished than a violent tremor shuddered through the park. The ground quaked, a low roaring that seemed to roll across the valley and into the park, right through the field where the picnic was. The assembled aristocrats dropped their plates and parasols and clutched each other, tumbling to the ground in a flurry of hats and chiffon. One man was standing by himself, and suddenly the ground ripped open right under his feet. Edna Mae blinked -- she could have sworn she saw a _tentacle,_ much like that of an octopus, snake out of the hole, wrap around the man's leg, and drag him screaming beneath the earth. Similar horrific scenes were playing throughout the park. Men and women were being sucked into holes that opened right under their feet. One man ran across the park, trying to get away, and a ridge of earth followed him like a mole digging a tunnel. A hole opened, a white thing whipped out, and the man was lost. Edna Mae jumped, shrieking. The ground caved under her boots, and she felt herself slipping. She leaped back -- and felt arms grabbing her and pulling her to safety. She looked up to see the Mayor standing behind her. "Get up on the grandstand," he told her firmly. Edna, startled, was going to obey, but suddenly the earth crumbled again -- right beneath the Mayor's feet. "Look out!!" she cried, pushing him back. A tentacle, white and veined, was visible briefly before vanishing into the black dirt. "A little too close!" the Mayor exclaimed. He almost sounded like he was scolding.He shepherded Edna Mae up the steps to the makeshift platform. "Mother, up here!!" called Edna. One by one she helped her parents and sisters up the steps. From a safe height they watched in shock as the dreadful scene played out. Men, women -- even a dog were snatched, one by one, by the hideous tendrils and pulled to their deaths. At last the awful shuddering seemed to move under the grandstand, and the Mickelwhites grabbed each other as the platform rattled. Then it ceased. The tremor echoed over the hills and was gone. Left behind was carnage. The horrified picnicers were getting up from the ground, looking around in fright. Some young ladies were screaming down holes for the beaus they'd lost down them. "God Almighty!" exclaimed Mr. Micklewhite, straightening himself. Mayor Wilkins looked concerned as well. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted over the panicked crowd. "Everyone, please calm down! We seem to have had another of our famous Southern California earthquakes --" "My fiancee was dragged away by a _squid!!"_ shrieked one hysterical lady.The Mayor ignored this. "-- may have opened some sinkholes under the park. If everyone will just move very carefully to the south end of the field...that's it, mind the holes..." Everyone, frightened as they were, seemed quite willing to believe an earthquake had occured. "Let's get out of here before there's another!!" shouted one man. "There'll be no more quakes," the Mayor assured him. Edna Mae looked at him oddly. "How do you know that?" she asked him. As the medic wagon and the horse-pulled fire wagon came over the hill to the scene, Mr. Micklewhite harrumphed. "Outrageous! Inviting people to a picnic on top of a...a...a fault line!! Come, my dears!" He descended the steps without so much as a goodbye to the Mayor. Mrs. Micklewhite, torn between etiquette and shock, wrung her hands, squeaked, ".....Ch-charmed, I'm sure!! --" and shooed her daughters down the steps. Edna Mae was the only one who stayed put. She didn't quite know what to think. All she was fairly certain of was that if the Mayor had not pulled her away, she herself might be down one of those dark holes. "Will I see you again?" she ventured as her family practically dragged her away. "Count on it," he promised with a smile. Edna Mae was of the age where a young woman becomes disillusioned with her family. Mr. Mickelwhite, so proud at being invited to the Mayor's picnic that first day, now disliked the politician to the point of voting for anyone that was running against him, Republican or not. Of course he was not pleased to hear that his daughter was falling for the man. This was the subject of many arguments between father and daughter that first year in Boca del Infierno. One evening, after one such loud disagreement, Edna Mae stalked out of the house in a huff, eager to go for a walk and settle her nerves. "That wasn't smart," noted Faith with a smile. The figure in black -- she faded in and out, becoming more shadow than solid at times -- nodded her dark, shapeless head. "Of course no one had told Edna that this city was a dangerous place to be at night. Perhaps she would not have listened if they had -- she was headstrong, that girl. However even her nerves were no match against what she met..... She had just come upon the park. Walking along the path, she turned a corner and stopped dead, uttering a cry of shock. She was reminded of two greyhounds tearing apart a hare on the family estate when she was a child. What she saw before her now was no less bloody and terrible. The two creatures -- as they turned to face her she knew they could not be called men -- had been lapping up the blood from their victim, it was running down their necks. Now they gazed at her with yellow, hungry eyes. Edna Mae knew with terrible certainty that this was what the unfortunate person on the ground had last seen. She knew that she was about to die. The creature closest to her sprang. Edna Mae cringed, shrieking as the man-monster sprinted toward her, fangs bared. In her fright her hands flew up, and they were clutching her bamboo parasol. The tip of it caught her attacker right in the chest. Through half-closed eyes, she saw the thing's face turn the color of saddle leather. He literally exploded right in front of her.Edna Mae opened her eyes, startled at not being dead. She stared at her parasol as though it were a foriegn object. At her feet lay a rather large pile of dust. The other vampire stared as well. "You killed my uncle!!" he shouted, enraged. "You stupid sow!! Yer gonna pay for that!!..." He came running at her.Edna Mae, panicked, did the first thing that came to mind: she swung back and broke her parasol over the creature's head. Then she ran away. But her dress tangling around her legs did nothing to help her escape and the creature quickly caught her, hurling her violently into a wall. Edna Mae screamed as the vampire tore her collar from around her neck. "Please," she got out, begging for her life, "Oh, God, please don't --" The vampire grinned, teeth glinting. "Just relax, darlin'," he sneered, "I like to take time with my drinks." He leaned over to tear her throat out..... "Stop right there," came a new voice. The creature turned, and Edna Mae was shocked to see Mayor Wilkins calmly walking down the dark alley. "Look out!" she cried, certain she was about to see him killed. "Richard, he's dangerous!! Watch --"But the creature suddenly backed away -- from her, from the Mayor, and into the wall. He almost seemed to be cowering. "Mr. Mayor!" he exclaimed, and Edna thought she could hear fear in the vampire's voice. The Mayor stepped forward, gazing almost reprimandingly at the creature. "Lyle," he sighed. "What are we going to do with you? Aren't there enough fine young women for you to lunch on in San Francisco without harrassing our citizenry?" The Mayor cast Edna Mae a pleasant smile. Edna Mae was bewildered. The vampire seemed utterly paralyzed at the sight of the mayor, yet as far as she could see, Wilkins was unarmed. "What're ya goin't' do?" the vampire asked. "Think yer gonna kill me?" He was trying to sound brusque but unable to keep his voice from shaking.Mayor Wilkins clicked his tongue. "Now, Lyle, how does that accomplish anything? Killing you? When I need you to do me a favor?"The vampire looked positively nervous. "What kinda favor?"The Mayor leaned forward. "I want every night creature and demon in the tri-county area to know that Miss Edna Mae and her family are off-limits. They're not to be bothered. Or harrassed. Or eaten. If I hear about one of them...ah, disappearing, or passing on suddenly...if even a dog of theirs is found drained, you and your gang will answer to me." He fixed the vamp with a intent stare. "Do I make myself clear?""Clear as glass, sir," murmured the vampire.The Mayor beamed, greatly pleased with this answer. "Good! Wonderful! And now I think you owe this young lady an apology for startling her. Go on." He gave the vamp a hard shove toward her. Edna Mae cringed, expecting the worst. But the vamp removed his hat in a most gentlemanly way and kept his eyes fixed on her boots as he mumbled. "Dreadful sorry, ma'am. It won't happen agin." Edna Mae was so bewildered she couldn't answer. "Is that a satisfactory apology, Miss Micklewhite?" asked the Mayor. Edna Mae forced herself to speak. "Oh, yes...yes, quite adequate," she fumbled. The vampire replaced his hat and slunk away, muttering fearfully to himself. Edna watched as the creature vanished, as the Mayor approached her, smiling. "That was a vampire!!" Edna Mae burst out.Mayor Wilkins cast a glance at the dark into which the being had vanished. "Yes, I believe it was," he noted cheerily. "Your parasol, Miss." He offered her broken, battered parasol to her. "It seems to have seen some hard times, hasn't it?" He chuckled. She stared at him. "Why didn't he attack me?" she wondered. "Why didn't he attack _you?_ He killed that man, he could have killed us both!"Mayor Wilkins contemplated her, smiling. "May I have the honor of seeing you home?" he asked evasively.Edna Mae didn't know what to make of this. "Yes...yes, of course," she finally agreed, taking his offered arm.He told her much during that walk through the dark streets. "The future is knocking at our door," he told her. "It's a brave new age, my dear -- the 1900's. Great changes are at hand. Someday, and not long off, mind you, this city will look quite different than it does now. Quite different indeed. I'm going to be the one to turn this town into...well, so much _more_ than it is now. To do that, I have to employ certain means." Edna Mae stopped short. "Are you a sorcerer?" she asked bluntly, thinking of the horror at the picnic. He looked her over intently. "Would it frighten you if I was?" Well, that was that. Edna Mae discreetly unhooked her arm from the Mayor's. "I see," she said. "Thank you very much for the lovely walk, your Honor, but I'm afraid I have to take my leave of you now --" He didn't seem put off, or even dismayed. He was almost smiling. "I've offended you?" "I come from a Christian family," she returned tersely. "We don't approve of such things. You shouldn't even joke about a thing like that!" "Really?" Wilkins gazed upon her interestedly. "Is there anything your father _does_ approve of?" "It's not my father's view," Edna muttered, nervous under the politician's curious eyes. "It's mine, as well." "A very valid one," Wilkins agreed roundly. "But consider this, my dear. Consider this lightpost." He laid a hand on one of the brand new wrought-iron posts lining the street. As Edna watched in amazement, the pale yellow globe flashed, changed color. Slowly the light turned a brillant flourescent green, casting a greenish tint on everything within a ten foot radius. The color deepened to a blue straight from the deepest part of the ocean, then sharpened to an electric purple. Edna had never seen such colors outside of Christmas mass. Mayor Wilkins grinned, knowing he had her attention now. "Years ago," he continued, "the science that created this electric light would have been called black magic. Edison would have been burned at the stake. The energy that powers it can rage out of control, burn down your home, kill your whole family." He took away his hand, and the globe, flickering red now, went out like a candle. After a moment's darkness it tentatively came back on, its yellow glow beaming down on them once more as he stepped to her. "Yet we channel it with wires, and trap it in glass bulbs, and we call it a miracle. It warms our homes, lights our rooms, makes the streets safe for decent people to walk at night." "The streets aren't safe," Edna Mae pointed out quietly, thinking of the vampire. "But what if you had power so great that you could walk the streets without fear?" Wilkins returned. "Think of it, Edna -- never being afraid, not of man or beast, not of death, ever again. Knowing that nothing on this earth could harm you or kill you. That's the kind of power I have." "That kind of power is black magic!" she insisted. "It's straight from the devil himself! There's nothing good about it! It's terrifying!" "Exactly!" he agreed. "What better reason to try and gain complete control over it?" Edna Mae hated to admit it, but the Mayor's words were striking a chord in her. For a girl who felt so utterly helpless so often, complete control sounded very tempting. "Do you control those -- things?" she ventured, nodding into the dark. Mayor Wilkins shrugged. "Oh, them. Think of them as large dogs. Wild, they're a handful. Housebreak them, and...well, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But they know what side their bread's buttered on." He chuckled. Edna Mae shuddered. "They're vile," she muttered. "They ought to be wiped off the face the earth." The memory of the first vampire collapsing in dust upon her parasol gave her a bizarre, energized feeling. Almost as if she had been destined to kill him... But then he took her hand, and these thoughts vanished like snow in the sun. "Yes, well, I agree with you," he spoke in a low voice very different from his normal chipper one. "Rats serve their purposes. But sooner or later, even rats need to be exterminated." 

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"You're yawning." The dark, raggedy creature eyed Faith. "Does my tale bore you?" Faith stretched one leather-clad leg, which was getting cramped. "Just thinking there's nothing like women's lib," she answered tersely. "I don't get it, she was such a nun, what'd she ever see in him in the first place?" The woman -- her face faded in and out, like a picture on an old black-and-white TV. Sometimes her features were old and wrinkled, and sometimes she looked young, but always her cheekbones jutted sharply and she remained deathly, waxy pale. She smiled that mocking, thinlipped smile. "Ah, but understand what the time was then. Back then a woman was brought up to believe she was nothing. Her family, her station demanded that she think herself such. Consider the plight of that young woman -- full of life, lost in a mob of sisters, not being considered best or brightest or most of anything. Imagine the resentment she began to harbor toward those things she had grown up trusting in. She knew she was different, yet powerless to do anything about it. Enter this man -- handsome, charming, who had power and was willing to share it. He dazzled her, showered her with gifts, and gave her power. Of course she became attached to him. Of course I don't expect a modern young thing like you to understand." The woman's red smirk slit the corners of her face. Faith didn't care for the way this witch was eyeing her. "So, uh, what happened next?" she muttered, eager to change the subject. 

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They gradually formed a courtship, becoming more and more fond of each other. There were carriage rides, evenings at the town's modest theatre, endless strolls though the park. In 1902 when Edna Mae's birthday rolled around, Wilkins told her he had a gift for her. "And what is this gift, pray tell?" Edna smiled. "You have it already," he said. "Oh, really?" It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon, and they were picnicing on the side of the river that ran alongside town. There was a brass band playing somewhere in the distance, and a barbershop quartet had serenaded them as they walked through town on the way to the river. Now the Mayor was happily skipping stones into the water, and Edna Mae was seated primly on the picnic blanket, nibbling lemon squares, a gargantuan hat shading her face. They often played games with tricky plays on words, and she thought he was kidding her again. "You're so funny," she smiled. "I daresay you're the only man I know who brings his own rocks from home to pitch in the river." Wilkins had the strangest smile on his face. "Stress reduction, my dear," he murmured. "It's like... tossing away your troubles. _This_ one's that insufferable blowhard who debated me last week." With a smooth snap of his wrist he winged it into the creek. It bounced three or four times before sinking to the bottom forever. With a satisfied leer, he came back to her side and sat down on the blanket. "So much for Mr. Elisha Briggs," he grinned at her. She might have been bothered the ominous tone of his words, if she hadn't been distracted by his smile. He had such a charmingly implike grin. Edna giggled. "May he rest in peace," she agreed. "So....this gift you have for me....am I to guess until I get it right? Is it animal, mineral or vegetable?" "You'll know it when you see it," he answered cryptically. He never took his eyes off her -- even when his back was turned, she thought she might be in his field of vision. It was a curious feeling -- creepy and warming at once. Edna Mae smiled skeptically. "I think this is your way of covering up the fact that you have, in truth, forgotten my birthday," she teased. Wilkins feigned dismay. "Oh, so that's what you think, is it? Really? Then what do you think of this --" As if by magic he produced a tiny box from thin air and presented it to her. Edna Mae's smile dropped off her face, and was replaced with awe. In the box was a diamond ring, and no small diamond at that. "Good Lord," she breathed, hypnotized by the sparkle. "It's the size of a dime, easily! You hope to blot out the sun?" He burst out giggling at that. Edna Mae gave him a funny look, then went back to admiring the diamond. "You can't possibly mean what I think you do by this," she said. "Well, why not?" he wanted to know. "Why shouldn't I want you for my wife? I'm soulless, I'm not made of stone." He looked positively wounded. Edna Mae was still not completely certain _what_ manner of human he was, but she was by now used to this kind of talk. She knew he was skilled in the black arts, and she didn't care. "You could cast a spell," she told him, "and have any woman in this county, probably in the world. You could enchant me to do anything you desired. I know full well you could." She looked him straight in the eye. "Why are you going to the trouble of courting me?" He didn't seem surprised at this question. "Because it's worth more if you come to me willingly," he told her, in a voice that anyone else would have thought sinister. "My dear mother raised me to believe anything worth having is worth working toward. Patience is something I have great supply of. I can wait forever for you, if need be. I'm the only man you'll ever meet who can keep that promise." She smiled at that. "I almost believe that you can," she conceded. That night she made the mistake of confiding in her sisters about the Mayor's proposal. Prudence, the self-righteous tattletale, went straight to their father and related all that Edna Mae had told. Thibault Micklewhite was of course, furious. So commenced the be-all and end-all of shouting matches between father and daughter, such that the entire household was in an uproar and nobody noticed at first when the Latin housekeeper they had hired began screaming as well. The Micklewhite sisters tried to calm down the old woman, who was near hysterical, apparently trying to alert tham about a visitor. "What on earth is she shouting?!" wondered Constance. "El diablo!!" The maid's eyes were huge and frenzied, and she clutched at them in a desperate attempt to make them understand. "Un hombre con el fuego en sus ojos y muerte que siguen detrás! Él viene para uno de usted las vírgenes!! El Dios nos salva --" Just then the front door banged open, and the Mayor came striding into the house like he owned it. This sent the maid into a frenzy. "El diablo!!" she shrieked, collapsing on the floor in fright. Constance didn't like it either. "Sir, I think you should leave! You've got no business --" Amid all this noise, Edna Mae came running into the front hall and nearly leaped into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. "I knew you'd come," she whispered, hugging him hard. Mayor Wilkins threw a darkly triumphant glare at the shocked sisters and the maid huddled in the corner. "Why, whatever is the matter?" he asked Edna Mae in a kindly voice that hardly matched his horrific smile. She pulled away, shaking her head. Her face was paler than usual. "Get me out of here," she pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "I don't care where we go, I don't care what we do. I'd rather be dead than endure living in this house another minute!"The Mayor looked very pleased. Almost touched. "Does that mean you're coming to me willingly?" he whispered significantly. Edna Mae felt thoroughly bad -- bad in the good, little-girl-stealing-candy sort of way. "With all my heart," she answered with a mischevious grin, and he grinned back. "Edna!!" Her father picked that moment to come storming into the hall. His face turned even redder at the sight of the hated sorcerer inside his home, holding his daughter. "Get out of my house!!" he roared. Edna Mae backed against Wilkins, as if protecting and seeking refuge with him. "Papa, you leave him be!! I invited him here, he's my guest, you show some respect!" "Respect?!" Mickelwhite snorted. "You're a child, girl, you're too blind to see this man's true face, he's the devil himself as far as I'm concerned!!" Edna Mae was aghast. "How dare you?! How dare you embarrass me like this? How can you be so cruel?!" Her mother had joined her sisters and the maid, looking on worriedly. The Mayor stood back from the action, arms folded, watching with interest but not intervening as the fight raged. "I'm speaking against him because I love you!" roared her father. "And I say any man who tries to turn a girl from her family and her religion is evil!!" "Evil?!" Edna Mae laughed. "Compared with whom, Papa? With Connie's beau? The pious Reverend Esper? A man who sooner beats his wife with a ruler than take her to his bed? Is that the kind of suitor you'd have for me?!" Constance covered her face, whimpering in embarrassment. It was true her husband was unrelenting in his faith, but also in his cruelty. Mr. Micklewhite blew up. He stabbed a finger in the Mayor's direction. "Evil!!" he shouted. "He's the one putting those wicked words in your mouth!! How dare you speak about a man of God that way?!" Edna Mae had had enough. "Given the choice between the two, I'd take Richard any day," she snapped. "In fact...I already have." "What?!!" Her father advanced on her, wide-eyed and pale as a sheet. Edna Mae was quite frightened, but anger eclipsed her reason. "You heard me," she challenged. "Richard's asked to marry me, and I've accepted. What do you think of that?! I'm going to be Mrs. Edna Mae Wilkins, and--" A sharp smack resounded through the room as Thibault Mickelwhite slapped his daughter's face, hard. Her mother and sisters gasped as Edna Mae recoiled in shock, clutching her face. The Mayor stepped from the shadows to her side, as the girl suddenly burst out with a wild, hysterical laugh, spiteful and unearthly. Mr. Micklewhite paled, as if the voice of the evil one himself was coming from his daughter's throat. Mayor Wilkins stepped toward Micklewhite, smiling coldly. "Now, that's devotion," he sneered. "Most fathers spoil their children with trinkets. You sir, you love her so much you'll beat her bloody to prove it." Micklewhite was about a head shorter than the Mayor, but he would not be bullied. "If killing her were the only way to save her from a devil like you, I would do it with my bare hands!" he snapped. "Thibault, in the name of God!!" wailed Edna's mother, horrified. The Mayor raised his eyebrows, faux-dismayed. "Well!" he chuckled. "I do hope you're hearing all of this, my dear!" he called over his shoulder. "Every word." Edna Mae rubbed her cheek, casting a bonechilling glare at her father. Things had been changed, irrevocably broken, and they both knew it. She turned to follow as her soon-to-be husband made for the front door. Micklewhite, moved to rage, started after them. "Don't you walk out on me!" he shouted. Edna Mae whirled around, black hair flying. _"Drop dead,_ father," she ordered through clenched teeth. Micklewhite opened his mouth to say something. He never made it. His face turned even redder and he clutched his left arm. He sank to his knees and collapsed on the floor, gasping in pain. His wife and daughters rushed to his side, and Edna Mae just stared, shocked. "Papa?" she uttered. The Mayor turned his leer on the terror-stricken maid. "Don't just stand there, senora, fetch a doctor," he directed. The poor old woman fled out the front door, though whether she planned to return with a doctor was anyone's guess. The old man was helped into a chair. Mrs. Micklewhite turned to the couple. "What have you done to him?!" she cried, and it was impossible to tell which one she was speaking to. Edna Mae thought it was her. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "I'll bring Dr. Sloane!" exclaimed Constance, and off she ran, out the front door. Prudence ran to fetch washcloths, and Edna's mother ran to the parlor. "Mama!" called Sophie, going after her. Edna Mae, knowing her mother's agony was her fault, followed, hoping to calm her down. "Watch him!" she admonished her new fiancee. "I will," he promised with a smile, and she hurried out of the front room, leaving him alone with her father. The Mayor stepped slowly over to the chair where Edna Mae's father sat heaving and gasping. He leaned over the old man, a terrible smile on his face. "Oh, don't worry," he assured the frightened patriarch. "I'll not lay a hand on you. It may interest you to know, Ty -- may I call you Ty? -- that I'm prohibited to spill human blood before...well, for a good long time yet. Not that I can't have my people do my work for me, of course. But you needn't worry about that. Your beautiful daughter told me to watch you. And I will." The tone of his voice made it clear that it wasn't the old man's health he was watching out for. An evil fire lit the Mayor's eyes as he loomed over the man like a gargoyle. "You've lost her, friend," he mocked, his voice a low growl. "She's mine now...as surely as if you'd given her to me." He smirked. "Explain that to your God when you see Him." And with that despairing thought in his ears, Thibault Micklewhite's heart finally caved and he gasped his last, quitting this world. With a broad grin, the Mayor straightened and left the room, leaving the dead man in the chair. Edna Mae was outside, standing by the gate under a dead grey sky, having been banished from the house by her overwrought mother. The Mayor joined her as Sophie, her youngest sister, emerged from the house and came down the walk toward them. Edna tensed, waiting. Her sister stopped before them. "Papa is dead," she announced. Edna Mae whimpered. That wasn't all. "Mother says you are not welcome in this house," said Sophie. "It wasn't Richard's fault --" Edna Mae began. Sophie shook her head. "It's not him she means." With a sorrowful look, she turned her back on them and hurried back to the dark house. Edna Mae just stood there, thunderstruck. From behind her came the Mayor's voice, "Well, _that_ was unbelievably rude. I mean, gosh, they didn't even let you get a coat! You'll catch your death out here!" Perhaps he was trying to make her feel better. She didn't care. "Did you do it?" she asked, her voice high and weak. "Was that your 'gift' to me? Did you kill him?" He'd removed his coat and arranged it neatly around her tense shoulders. "No," he assured her. "Did I?" She turned to face him. He looked almost exasperated. "Does it matter?" "It matters to me. Did I kill him?" He gazed at her, contemplating. "Yes." Edna Mae's dark eyes went wide as saucers. "He was an old man," Wilkins continued, "terrified by the thought of another man replacing him in his daughter's eyes. It literally scared him to death. So if you _must_ take responsibility--" "What power have you given me?" she interrupted. He stepped closer to her, so that they were inches apart. "No power that you don't want," he said quietly, "and any power that you do. I think the real question is, did you _want_ to kill him?" He gazed intently into her eyes. And she had to admit the truth; horrific as it was, it was strangely a relief. "Yes." He beamed. He really grinned. "Happy birthday," he said, and he leaned over and kissed her pale forehead, as if giving her a blessing. Edna Mae's eyes rolled back and closed, overcome with the despair of the situation. But then she opened them, and the whole situation seemed the slightest bit brighter. She gazed coldly at the house where she could never return again, and did not regret it one bit. Those people meant nothing to her now. Taking her fiancee's hand, she and he turned their backs on the Micklewhite house and walked away. 

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[continue > ][1]   
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   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/va/trixter/ednamae2.html
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/mi/catwoman1/mayorfic.html



	2. 

## Courting Disaster  


### by Melanie Alford, © 1999 

**

##### This is a work of fiction based on the TV series _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, created by Joss Whedon. All characters, names, ect. are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended.

**

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They were married in May of 1903. Edna wanted a traditional church wedding, something Wilkins was dead set against, though he never ever said so. "Of course we'll have it in a church," he assured her. "Why, we'll even invite your family. I trust not all your kin has damned you for marrying me. It'll be a bang-up affair, I promise." He ended this sentence as he did so many, with a peculiar chuckle. The day of the wedding dawned dark and stormy. In her boudiour, Edna Mae fretted over how ghostly she looked in her lace wedding dress, her black hair crusted with white flowers and lilacs. As she was making the final preparations for the ceremony, she heard the door of the room creak open behind her. Startled, she turned -- and was dismayed to see her beloved walk into the room, smiling. "What do you think you're doing?!" she chided. "I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding, it's bad luck!" He shrugged. "So close your eyes," he suggested. Edna gave him a funny look, but she did as he said. When her eyes were shut the Mayor stepped forward, and in one swift motion placed his hands on her face and drew his thumbs briefly over her closed eyelids, as quick and gentle as a feather. Edna Mae jerked as a blinding headache flashed through her skull, and vanished just as abruptly. She opened her eyes, startled. "What --" she began, then froze. The entire world looked different, rosier. The dark, gloomy storm clouds outside had vanished, the sun was shining brilliantly. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and was stunned at how lovely she looked; how white her dress and peachy her cheeks were. Even her husband-to-be looked more handsome than ever. "See you at the altar, my dear," he beamed, bowing before her in a ridiculous way as he backed out of the room. The church was decorated beautifully for the occasion. Blood red flowers draped the altar, and the white cross gleamed as they walked down the aisle. The elderly minister beamed kindly at them as they fed each other the holy sacrament and made their vows of undying love. Edna Mae couldn't believe how perfect it was, like every wedding day in every fairy tale ever written. She couldn't have been happier. If only she had seen what was coming up the walk, outside the church. Her sister Constance's husband, the Reverend Emil Esper, was stalking toward the darkened building with a determined scowl on his face, in spite of the howling wind and driving rain pounding him. Constance followed behind, crying and whimpering. "Emil, this isn't safe!! Something terrible's going to happen here!!" she cried. Reverend Esper turned and loomed over her, scowling. "Courage, woman," he snapped. "Do you want to save your sister's soul or not?! She is held hostage in that den of the damned, a harlot to the devil himself. Will you turn and run away when she needs you the most?! Come --" And wrenching her arm he dragged her down the walk, closer to the black building. Constance waited on the lawn as Reverend Esper clambered up the wrought iron fence, jumping onto the church window. Drying the rain-slicked window with his coatsleeve, he peered inside. He witnessed a truly bizarre, chilling sight. Inside the dark building were a thousand candles ringing a dreadful figure standing at an altar upon which a bloody sacrifice lay, and before this stood the damnable Mayor Wilkins and with him, dead pale in the dark, was Edna Mae. Had she been able to see what actually surrounded her, that the assembled guests in the accursed church were all, in reality, vampires, she would have been as filled with horror as Reverend Esper was now. "God have mercy," he murmured. "What do you see?" called Constance. The Reverend jumped down from the window. "Give me the weapons," he instructed. "What did you see?!" demanded Constance. "Where's Edna? Is she there? How do we save her?!" "We don't!!" the Reverend barked at her. "Your sister is lost, woman, she's given her soul to that evil thing, and there's nothing we can do now but rid the world of their wicked influence!" And leaving Constance wailing in grief, he took the bag of weapons he'd brought and jumped the fence one more time, meaning to break into the church. Inside the reception hall, the celebrations had already begun. Edna Mae was half under a spell and half not; she caught glimpses of things that at the most made her do a double take, but whenever she looked too closely whatever it was would look as normal or as kindly or as shiny as anything. And her new husband would herd her away from whatever she was staring at and preoccupy her with something else. At last he just grabbed her hand and spun her toward the center of the elegant ballroom, leading her into a waltz. Edna shrieked delightedly as they danced around the room, the perfect married couple. Suddenly there was commotion at the far end of the hall. Edna Mae and Richard watched in amazement as the crowd parted like the Red Sea; the guests suddenly cringing and shrieking and behaving very unbecomingly for a wedding reception. It was Reverend Esper who was clearing them from his path like he had the plague, and as he stalked toward the couple they could see why: he had a monstrous gold cross in his hand. He walked right up to Edna Mae and planted the cross in the middle of her forehead. "Begone!!" he screamed, "thou unspeakable, unholy, depart this earthly vessel and leave this child of God in peace!!" Edna Mae didn't do anything. She didn't scream, or melt, or spin her head around. She just fixed Esper with a perplexed frown. "Oh, Emil, for pity's sake," she sighed. The Reverend was only briefly confused. He resorted to the one sure way he knew to make people obey him: he smacked Edna down and held her to the floor, pressing the cross onto her head, hollering holy Latin phrases. This didn't go on long; the Mayor himself grabbed Esper and shoved him away, jerking the cross from his hand. As he helped his wife to her feet vampires descended on the reverend, dragging him across the room and slamming him against the wall. The Reverend was trapped and watched in dread as Mayor Wilkins walked very calmly toward him. The first thing Esper noticed was that the Mayor's eyes were literally glowing, a fearful, hate-filled green glare. The second thing was the sword. The Mayor smiled unpleasantly. "Reverend. Now how do I repay this kind visit. I have a lovely room in the cellar; shall I put you down there? Perhaps I'll give you garbage to eat. I wonder if the Almighty will send you rats bearing bread, like He did for His other disciple?" The Reverend glared steadily at the sword. "I'm no small person to eradicate," he pointed out. "Do you think you can cover up a murder of a member of the church? It won't sit well with your voters when they hear you murdered a man of the cloth with a sword." "Oh, my sword." Wilkins chuckled. "Do you like it? I won this sword a long time ago...lot longer than I care to recall, frankly. This weapon and I have been through a lot together. Pretty much an ornament now." But he twirled it as if he were an expert swordsman, watching the candlelight flash off its tarnished, engraved blade. "Used to be nothing made me perkier than swordfighting... and plundering, and slaughtering innocents, terrorizing everything we could find. I was pretty darn good at it, too. But y'know, years go by and you start to wonder if there's something more to life than pirating the seas...not that that's not fun, mind you. So I came here. America really is the land of opportunity, isn't it?" He chuckled. "I found all sorts of goodies here. I founded a town, gathered a legion of minions, met my beautiful wife..." He looked to Edna Mae, who looked kind of stunned at the sight of him with a sword. "...I couldn't ask for more, really." His voice dropped, turned low and dangerous as he turned on the Reverend. "And I'll be dead on a Sunday before I let some self-righteous little worm like you take all that away. When I founded this town in 1899 I had to make a vow that I wouldn't spill human blood. And I've kept it. I always keep my promises." With startling speed he gave it one final twirl and aimed the blade directly at the center of the Reverend's skull. "But let me tell you, friend...I've never been as tempted to break a promise as I am right now." "Stop!!" shouted Edna Mae. She was staggering toward them, recovering from the fall. The Mayor turned to his new wife with a sigh. "Aw, c'mon!! I know he's your brother-in-law, but you never liked him anyway, and..." Edna Mae came to stand by her husband's side. She glared at the intruder. "Good evening, Reverend," she greeted coldly. "How is my sister Constance? Healing nicely, I presume?" "Your sister is in a much happier position than you are, witch!" shouted the Reverend. "Beats the position you're in," snickered the Mayor, raising the sword. Edna Mae grabbed his arm. "Don't kill him," she warned. "He's insulted your honor, my dear --" She faced him, staring into his eyes. "Do you want to lose everything you've worked so hard for?" she said. "Is the pleasure you'll get from killing him worth it? This puny nothing...he'll be the one who ruins it all? Is that what you want?" The Mayor seemed to know she was right, captivated under her dark eyes. "What would you have me do?" he asked softly. Edna Mae beamed. It was a startlingly similar smile to that of her husband's. "Give a man garbage and you feed him for a day," she pointed out. She turned to Esper with a chilling black glare, her pale face suddenly lit by an unearthly fire. "Turn him into a PIG....and he'll be eating garbage _for the rest of his miserable life."_ It was horrible to watch. Esper's mouth dropped open and the noise he made as his body twisted and shrunk was like nothing ever heard on this earth before or since. In a very short time the transformation was complete, and there was a pig scrabbling around the floor, squealing in fright. The vampire guests reacted to this variously; some with shock, others regarding the animal hungrily. The Mayor and Edna Mae stood gazing down at the creature, twin leers on their faces. Wilkins looked vaguely awed. _"Well._ Guess that blows the evolution theory all to heck." And they both burst out laughing maniacally. The pig squealed, terrified. Even the vamps looked nervous. The ballroom echoed with the bloodchilling sound of the Wilkins' laughter. "Oh," Edna gasped, wiping her eyes, "oh, Dickie, you're just a stitch!!" she giggled. The assembled vamps suddenly cleared out of the room for good. The stragglers all backed as far into the walls as they could, fearful expressions on their faces. Edna Mae looked around questioningly at this strange behavior. "What on earth?...." she wondered, looking to her husband. He was still smiling, though it was a grim smile. Edna couldn't possibly have known that the last person who'd called him that hideous nickname, an accursed little whelp of a cabin boy, was presently standing frozen on a pedestal in the city park. But he shrugged it off, giving the vamps a good hard stare. "Oh, honestly, she's my wife!" he scolded them all. He looked down at her, smiling a dark, disturbing smile. Outside the church, Constance was running madly around the perimeter, screaming her husband's name, frantic at his prolonged absence. The rain was coming down harder, her clothes were stuck to her, and she looked quite the lost, melancholy wretch. She finally found the back door and ran toward it, pounding wildly on the wood. "Emil! _Emil!!"_ she shrieked, near hysterical. The door suddenly flew open, and there stood Edna Mae, eyes black as death. She was holding something in her arms, and she threw it at Constance. The squealing _thing_ hit her in the chest and scrabbled away into the rainy night. Edna glared. "Get him out of here," she commanded her sister in a terrible tone. "I was able to spare him tonight. I won't even bother next time." Constance was mad with fright. "What is it?!!" she cried. "It's your husband," smirked Edna, and shut the door.Constance looked down with wide eyes at the pig turning circles in the mud. And she did the only sensible thing: she opened her mouth and screamed. 

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"Will you do an old woman a favor?" asked the dark woman. Her face was quite young now, it seemed to change with the story she told. "Will you let me braid your hair?" Faith blinked. "What?" The woman wrung her bony, white fingers. "I used to braid my little sister's hair," she whispered. She suddenly looked very unhappy. "It was my absolute favorite thing to do. You look so like her..." The idea of that dead thing raking its claws through her hair would have normally turned Faith's stomach. But she turned her back to the woman, almost unconsciously, and let the creature start separating her hair into strands. "What happened next?" Faith asked, interested in the tale in spite of herself. "I know they got married. I bet they never had kids." The way the Mayor acted toward her sometimes made Faith feel like she was the kid he never had. Although Faith couldn't see it, the woman's face had turned almost a glowing pink. "They did indeed," she whispered mournfully, folding one lock over another. "No, my dear, you're mistaken there. They most definately had one child." 

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Edna Mae delivered a boy in the winter, while her husband was away. For as far beforehand as the first signs of her condition, she had been having terrifying dreams regarding the child -- dreams of blood, of men becoming monsters, of her baby being devoured and obliterated by a dark, shapeless shadow even more evil than the vampires she was surrounded by. She became convinced the child would be the bringer of doom -- to her, to her husband, to everyone. So, about a week after the birth, while the Mayor was still away, Edna sent for her last confidant; her sister Sophie. The youngest Mickelwhite sister approached the Wilkins house fearfully that day. She had not dared try to contact Edna Mae since the wedding. Poor Constance had been carried off to a mental asylum after her husband had vanished, and Sophie had heard unimaginable recounts of the events that had occured that dark day. The word around town was that the Mayor's wife was even more evil than he was. And indeed, the ghastly thing Edna's note had urged Sophie to bring, that which she now carried in a large picnic basket, seemed like a request from nothing less than a madwoman. But deep down Sophie couldn't believe the dreadful matter was what it seemed. She still loved her sister, and felt reasonably sure Edna would let no harm come to her. So she went to the house, carrying the large basket. She cowered fearfully as a ghastly looking vampire met her at the front gate. "F-f-fruit...I bring my sister fruit," she explained, holding up the basket. The vamp ignored it, and led her into Edna's room. Edna Mae was sitting in bed, cradling her newborn. "Dear Sophie!!" she exclaimed cheerfully as the girl entered. "Come meet your new nephew!"The vampire left the room. Edna Mae's smile dropped off her face, and she fixed her sister with a terrible stare. "Did you get it?" she asked pointedly. Sophie approached the bed, clutching the basket with white knuckles. "Y-yes...yes, Edna, it was easy to do. Easier than I thought --" "Bring it here. Let me see." Sophie reluctantly put the basket down by Edna's side. She opened the top, and Edna peered in. Her face went pale, and she nodded grimly. "It's perfect," she said. "You did very well." Sophie sat nervously. "I never thought I'd be happy to say there's something of an epidemic," she sighed. "Edna, it's terrible. It's absolute madness." Edna Mae looked grimly down at her sleeping child. "It's the only way," she said firmly. "Take it out." Making a face, poor Sophie reached into the basket and pulled out a small something wrapped in a plain brown hospital issue blanket. It did not move as she unwrapped it and handed the blanket to Edna Mae, who had taken the quilt off her yawning son, wrapping him in the brown blanket. Squeamish, Sophie hurriedly wrapped her bundle up in the quilt and traded it with her sister, eagerly giving up the dead infant for the live one. She peeked curiously into the blanket, awed at the sleeping child's face. "He looks so normal!" she marveled. Edna Mae gave her a look. "You expected a monkey?" Sophie immediately relented. "I don't know what I thought, with _him_ for a father. I'm sorry, Edie..." Edna Mae let it go. She gazed sadly at her sister, holding her son. "He's your child now," she whispered, her face softening into a smile. "Now you get to play the mommy. Take him back to Boston, make a new life for yourselves." Sophie was overjoyed, but miserable at once. "Edie, come away with us!" she pleaded. "We'll go somewhere that he'll never find you, we don't have to go back to Boston. He'll never guess you're in London, let's go there!" Edna Mae regarded Sophie with surprise. "I don't want to leave him!" Sophie looked sorrowful. "Edna, you don't know what you've entered into with him," she pleaded. "You didn't see his face that day at the picnic. He wasn't frightened like everyone else. He was _smiling._ Like the world was his fish pond and we were all frogs to be got rid of before it looked pretty. He'll be the death of you. Especially when he thinks your baby has died!" Edna Mae shook her head. "I'm not afraid of him." But she didn't smile when she said it. Sophie rolled her eyes. "No, only enough to send away your only son, never to be seen again!" Edna's eyes clouded over. "That's different. I can't explain how I know, I just have this feeling that it'll fare badly for any child of ours living in this town." She looked desperately at her son with hollow eyes. "It'd be better for all of us if you never let him come back here. Him or any of his kin." She sat back, weary. "You'd better go now, while he's quiet. And take this --" She stuffed a roll of bills into Sophie's coat pocket. With a sad look, Sophie placed the sleeping boy in the basket that she had brought the small corpse in. She carried it to the door, looking back. "I love you, Edie," she told her sister. Edna Mae nodded. "When he asks, tell him his father was a great man," was her only farewell. Sophie shuddered, and vanished out the door. Edna Mae never saw either of them again. She sat back in the bed, cradling the dead infant in her arms. The next week when the Mayor returned to his home, he found all the servants more frightened of him than usual -- indeed, too frightened to be in the same room with him. Even his vampire minions had made themselves scarce, the ones who did show their faces looked nervous and whispered to each other. "What is it?" Wilkins demanded, going from one to the other, getting nothing but mumbles and grunts from them. Finally he found Edna herself, slumped in a chair in the orchid-filled sitting room, similarly hiding her face -- and noticeably without her child. Every vamp in the room with her stood, fearful. The Mayor cast them all a frustrated glare. "What's going on? Are you all under a spell?" He would have chuckled at that, but for once he didn't feel like laughing. He went to his wife in her chair. "What has happened?" he asked her. Edna Mae lifted her face to meet his. Her eyes were red and her face was drawn and haggard, whiter than usual. "I lost the baby," she got out, and her face crumpled and she began to cry. Between wails she related her account of what happened -- the child had become sick, and there was no cure for him, he had died while he slept in his mother's arms. The doctor couldn't save him, had no explanation other than that something had bitten and drained it of all its blood. Edna Mae glanced fearfully at the vamps as she whispered this part. She sniffled and wept at appropriate moments, blamed herself where she could. Though all this her husband sat, wide-eyed, dead silent. "For God's sake, say something," she begged at last. "You must hate me, I should have been watching him -- it's all my fault--" The Mayor snapped out of his stunned trance. "No," he told her, clasping her hands. "no, no, it's not your fault. Not in the least. I won't allow you to blame yourself for this. It's tragic, to be sure...we've just got to keep our heads up. For pete's sake, Edna, it could have been worse!" Edna Mae couldn't quite cotton to that notion. "How can it possibly be any worse?! We've lost our son!"Wilkins smiled -- and for once there was nothing eerie in it. "But I might have lost you, my dear." And he embraced her, rather clumsily, as she was seated, but gently nonetheless. Edna Mae clung to him, shaking all over, and not just from grief. It worked, he believed her. "I lost my baby," she repeated miserably, and wept all over again. Her tears were not entirely false. After spending the better part of an hour trying to console her, the Mayor finally left the sitting room, glowering darkly. "Bob," he snapped at a vampire nearby. "Gather the others. Find out which one of them it was. I want a name to put on his tombstone. I want to know who would dare do this. And keep a watch on my wife. Bend over backwards, give her anything she wants." He paused, dissatisfied. "And the doctor, the one who assisted in the birth, now what's his name..." "Dr. Sloane," supplied Bob. The Mayor nodded. "Yes, yes, that's the man. Hunt him down and kill him." "Yes, sir." Grinning, the vampire went off to do as he was told. 

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ 

"You seem preoccupied, girl," said the dark, pale apparition. Faith was jolted from her train of thought, which was so serious that her brow had furrowed in a frown. "Uh...nothing...I'm just thinkin'...Boston, that's, that's where I used to live." A bitterly pleased smirk bled across the dark woman's face, unseen by Faith. The ghost was recalling a day, a lot more recently than the era she was relating, a day when the Mayor and Faith had been meeting in his office, plotting some terrible point on some wicked plan, and Faith had agreed, of course, with everything he said. "That's my girl," chuckled the Mayor. _"Yes, she is,"_ the ghostly Edna Mae had rasped in his ear. The Mayor had straightened, staring at the Slayer as if for the first time, with wide eyes. At that moment, even though a hundred years had passed, he knew, he realized, what his wife had done. "Clever girl," he whispered aloud. Faith, staring at his award wall at the time, had looked up questioningly. "What'd you say?" she asked. The Mayor had stood there in thunderstruck silence for a moment more, then beamed. "You need a new wardrobe," he proclaimed. Faith had raised an eyebrow. It was not long after they had formed their alliance, and she was still getting used to this weird guy. This behavior was way out of left-field. "I do?" "You do indeed." He came toward her, grinning. "Why don't you sit down? No, take my chair, the big plushy one. Do you like cookies?...." Now the ghost grinned as she deftly weaved -- Faith's hair, her tale. "You must know," she continued, "that Edna Mae was quite right to falsify her child's death. The Mayor had already been alive for quite some time. His lease on life, though extended, was almost spent. He had already arranged to become immortal, but can you imagine how the town's residents would have reacted to a Mayor that didn't age? Now that would have been peculiar, even for this place. It had to be widely known that he had a son. He meant to assume his son's place." "What did he figure his son was gonna do?" wondered Faith. "Move to Mexico? Go underground?" The ghost tugged Faith's hair a little too hard into place. "I don't know," she replied ominously. "Edna, for her part, wasn't going to take the chance. She adored her husband, but she would have been happy if they never had any more children." Faith was sure she looked dippy as hell with her hair in braids, but she was too sleepy to care. "But he did take his son's place," she argued. "He's on what, the second one now? How'd he do it if he didn't have any kids?" The woman's eyes grew even blacker. "I'm sure I don't know," she repeated bitterly. "He always found a way to do...things...." 

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ 

It was in October of 1909 that Edna Mae became ill. She was so dreadfully weak that she could barely drag herself from one room to another. She would sit in a chair and remain there for most of the day, simply because she didn't have the strength to move. It was the most peculiar, disagreeable feeling, like her will to live was sapping away...like she was slowly bleeding to death. She was too weak even to be frightened of the bizarre illness, though she knew it was frightened she ought to be. He brought her a glass of lemonade one evening, as she lay near lifeless on the settee. She accepted it gratefully, needing both hands to hold it up. "I can't think why I feel so out of sorts lately," she murmured. "I'm as weak as a kitten." "Drink your lemonade," he told her. Something about the way he said it made her give pause. She looked up and saw that he was watching her closely, too closely. "All of it," he prompted. "Believe me, my dear, you'll thank me later." Edna Mae didn't know what to think. Something about his tone made her quite certain that not finishing her lemonade would be a mistake, and yet she was filled with forboding as well. But she tilted the glass up and drank it all, to the last drop, and when she was done he took the glass from her hands. "What was that all about?" she asked. He was smiling. That eerie, curious smile. "Forgive me," he said. "I have had to do something without telling you. It's something I can't ask of anyone else, and would not ask of anyone..." "You're making me nervous," she told him in no uncertain terms. His smile had turned sinister, as he gazed at her with those sharp, pale eyes. "To do everything I'm going to have to for this town," he said in a even, measured tone, "I'll have to be around for a very long time. Longer than most. I need to become immortal. And I have. With your help. What you've been feeling these past weeks is your youth and vitality draining from you. I've been pooling them." In all the time during the past seven years Edna Mae had never once feared her husband. Not even when she was lying to him about their son's death. Not really. She was damn frightened now. A cold, trembly pit was hollowing in her stomach. Sophie's voice sounded in her ear: _"He'll be the death of you..."_ Edna's eyes were as wide as wagon wheels. "If...if you're taking my youth," she got out, her voice shaking, "what...what would that make me?!" The Mayor smiled beguilingly at her. "Why, it would make you a feeble, withering husk of an old woman," he told her outright. _"If_ you hadn't already taken the Elixir of Bavsurius. That will sustain you until we find some expendable young person to, uh, volunteer his youth for you." Edna Mae looked down at the glass, and realized in the selfsame moment that she did, indeed, feel stronger. Much stonger than she had for the past week. Her arms, which had felt like limp daisy stems only a moment before, suddenly were energized. She felt like she could have done cartwheels if she'd had a mind to. "Oh, for Pete's sake, you didn't think I was going to go through eternity without my wife by my side, did you?" the Mayor chuckled at the trepidation on her face. "What's the matter? You're not afraid of immortality, are you?" Edna Mae knew she should be relieved -- she was, plenty relieved that her husband wasn't going to kill her -- but she also felt curiously hollow. "I...I had expected to die someday," she murmured. This seemed to genuinely confuse him. "And yet three seconds ago you were pale with fear that your death was upon you," he murmured. "I know, I..." He couldn't comprehend this. "Why? Why on earth would you want to get old and die?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "Because that's what people are supposed to do," she returned. "Because life becomes tiresome. The body becomes old and weak.""It doesn't have to!" he argued.Edna ignored that. "A soul yearns for lost loved ones, for sleep," she muttered. She looked up to see him staring at her like she'd sprouted a pair of angel wings. "Don't you ever feel that way?" "In the end, that was what separated them," Faith's ghostly storyteller rasped. "The one area where they couldn't see eye to eye. He really couldn't understand why she would someday have liked to die. In any case she didn't have much choice about it. The charm was already started. She was strong again, but it wouldn't last. The Mayor sent his vampire minions to find some eligible, young, non-missable person that could be "persuaded" to give youth to Edna Mae, and they found one Roberto Ruiz, a drifter from south of the border. The young man told them that he was suicidal because of his bride's sudden flu death and wanted to be closer to the end of his life. "Easily done," leered the Mayor. So preparations were made. Ghoulish ingredients were sent for. Evil books were dug out of cubbyholes and propped open. When everything was ready Mayor Wilkins went to fetch his bride from the observatory where she often sat, gazing at the view of the town. It was sunset and the bloody light cast them both in red as he drew near. "We're all set downstairs, my dear," he said. No answer. "Still nervous, huh?" he asked. He took her hand reassuringly. "Would you really rather get old? Head a steady downward spiral of age and disease and death? Just say the word, and I'll send them all away. You know I will." But it wasn't really what she wanted after all. "No," she finally answered. "No, I'm not afraid anymore. I'll admit I've always thought there's nothing more romantic than being buried next to the one you love." She turned and smiled at him. "But the fact is I don't care whether we're alive or dead, in heaven or hell." Her eyes, and his too, were tinted oddly red from the sun. "But together, we've got to be together, Richard. I can't bear to be apart. You're like a curse. You're my curse." It was a term of endearment, and she said it with a smile. And having said it, she was suddenly uneasy again. "Tell me that's why you orchestrated this, that that's why you wish me to become immortal. And I'll do it with an eager heart." "Because she knew," snarled the ghost to the young Slayer, "She wasn't stupid, though you may think otherwise. She knew even then what he was capable of. If only --" The ghost's face turned black briefly, the facade fell for a moment and Faith caught a glimpse of the face of death. The grotesque apparition made a hideous noise that sounded like a moan of grief. The temperature in the dark cubbyhole dropped ten or twenty degrees. "Stupid," the woman's raspy voice hissed. "Stupid, wicked, cursed girl...." Edna Mae was led down the stairs to where the boy Ruiz was waiting. They stood in an evil circle together and had charms spoken over them. They drank from the same bowl of chicken's blood, and a sudden brilliant flash of green light burst from the boy's stomach and enveloped the mayor's wife. The spell was working. The boy writhed as his hair turned grey, his body shrunk. He opened his mouth -- but instead of a cry of pain, a loud peal of mocking laughter came from him. At the exact same moment, Edna Mae was the one to utter a bloodchilling scream, like she was being skinned alive. Even the Mayor jumped; the awful sound rattled the windows. The green glow vanished with a jolt, and Edna Mae collapsed on the floor. The Mayor could see that something was terribly wrong. He turned to give the Ruiz boy a good talking-to, but stopped as Ruiz, or what was left of him, leaped on the Mayor, clawing his clothes. The drifter had changed from a young man of twenty to an ancient, ancient creature, scabrous and pitted and crumbling. The Mayor was too upset even to think that his suit was getting dirty. "What have you done to my wife?!" he demanded. The boy -- no longer a boy, and not much more than a corpse, sneered. "Surely you've not forgotten my brother?!" he rasped. "Your cabin boy?! Frozen forever in your city park?! I have sacrified everything to live this long to avenge his death, and curse you --" and these were his last words as his jawbone crumbled to dust and vanished. Edna Mae lay lifeless, moaning, on the floor. The Mayor crawled to her side and sat her up, and to both their horror her hair crumbled like dead grass in his hands.Edna moaned, disgusted by this sight. She looked up at him with desperate eyes that didn't want to focus. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, fearful. The look on Wilkins' face was indeed, about the closest to frightened that she'd ever seen him look. And then Edna let out a pained cry as her skin drew and tucked around her bones. She looked at her arms, which were about the texture of ancient parchment. The dreadful weakness had seized her again, and worse, her whole body felt like it was shrinking. She had begun to age rapidly. She looked at him again -- a horrible, hurt-filled glare of rage that he'd remember for eternity. "What the hell have you _done?!"_ Edna cried. She did not get better. In the fall her black hair faded and began falling out in earnest. In the winter her eyesight went, and she took to her bed, growing weaker with each passing month. Her beautiful face shriveled; her cheekbones, which had always been a source of pride for her, became more and more gaunt as the supernatural aging ravaged her. She was going to die, and they both knew it. And for whatever reason, it was the last thing the Mayor wanted to happen. And so he devised a sick, twisted plan. One unseasonably cold, dark evening in May of 1910, the Mayor recieved a visitor. The vampire hailed from Cairo, Egypt and had been around since the days of the pharoahs, and was said to be greatly skilled in arcane magic besides. "I'm told you're the, uh, creature for the job I have," the Mayor greeted the stranger, extending his hand. The vampire's appearance was more genie-like than vampiric. His skin was literally gold-bronze, as were his eyes, and his ears were elvishly pointed. Black kohl lined his eyes and his dress bore scarabs and runic symbols. The visitor stood with folded arms, disregarding the Mayor's hand. "You have outlined what you want me to do," he spoke in a voice as bronze as the rest of him. "Let me see if I understand you completely. Your wife --" The Mayor nodded, ignoring the vampire's complete lack of etiquette. "Is very sick," he finished. "At death's door, as it happens." "And you want me to..." "Bring her over." The Mayor chuckled. "I do believe that's the term, isn't it? Turn her? Change her into one of your kind?" He turned and crossed the rug to the liquor cabinet. "You can do it, can't you?" The vampire made a move that might have been a shrug. "It can be done, and easily," he assured. "But...are you certain that's what you want?" "Well, you tell me." The Mayor poured a shot of scotch for himself and a pint of strained virgin's blood for his visitor. "What's the downside to your, ahem, delicate condition?" The vampire leered. He had two rows of sharp teeth, and the second set didn't quite hide behind the first. "You have no way of knowing that I will answer you truthfully." The Mayor handed the glass to the vamp with a smile. "That's true," he conceded. "On the other hand, the last gentleman who crossed me...well, let's just say he met a bad end." The bronze creature conceded. "She will no longer be the woman you know." "Change is good," reasoned Wilkins. "She will lose her soul. She will become undead...a demon." "This just gets better and better," said the Mayor. The vampire's smile melted away like fat on a fire. "She will thirst for blood," he said. "Particularly after the change. She will kill anything to get it." He fixed the politician with an intense stare. "Including you." The Mayor nodded, considering this. "Yes, I suppose she might, at that," he murmured in a strange, low voice. "You just let me worry about that. That's one of the perks of being immortal...death just doesn't mean what it used to." He crossed the floor, his back turned to the visitor. "You must understand, sir...behind every great man is a great woman. I need her. I need her to give me an heir. You have no idea how important it is that I have a son." A shadow of cold calculation darkened his face. The vampire leered at these words. This did not go unnoticed by the Mayor. "I understand the change may interfere with that somewhat," he said pointedly."You are talking about taking a live woman and turning her into a corpse," sneered the vampire. "You can't possibly expect her body to remain as, shall we say, useful as it is now. Why do you search for the living among the dead? Let her die, give her a magnificent burial, and find some young trollop to give you a child." The Mayor's eyes had gone dangerously dark. "Why, you --" he started. Then he checked himself. "-- you're certainly a gutter-minded individual, aren't you?! I don't _want_ another woman. I want her. I brought you here with the understanding that you could work a miracle and by golly, I can certainly put you someplace unpleasant if you don't." He settled back, effectively keeping a lid on his seething wrath. "Now..._can_ you do what I have in mind or not?!" The vampire leered. "I can," he assured. "The process is delicate, but it can be accomplished with the right incantations. I can be ready by tomorrow evening." "Wonderful." The Mayor nodded. "Tomorrow is our special day. I'll have one more day with her...you can do it at sundown. Mind you --" he added, as the vampire turned to leave, "...don't...don't let her know what you're doing. My Edna Mae has something of a phobia about your people." The Egyptian vampire grinned, a full-fanged leer. "I'll be very gentle with her," he promised, teeth gnashing. And he left the room, and the house, soon to return. The Mayor watched him go with an almost pensive expression. But the deal was done, it was as good as finished. He had no way of knowing that while he and his visitor had been talking, their conversation had echoed up through the heating vent, between the walls, up to the third story bedroom where a small, weak shape huddled, trembling in the sheets, and not from the chill. She crumpled in the bed, horrified by what she had just overheard, clear as day even with her blocky hearing. "He can't," came her raspy voice, shaking with fright. "He wouldn't dare." 

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   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/va/trixter/edn amae3.html
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	3. 

## Courting Disaster  


### by Melanie Alford, © 1999 

##### This is a work of fiction based on _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ created by Joss Whedon. All characters, names, ect; are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**She passed the rest of the night, and most of the next day, lying near dead with terror under the covers of their bed, replaying what she had heard, or thought she heard -- she couldn't quite believe it -- in her mind. He had said he would spend one more day with her, and that sunset would be the signal for the creature to come and...what? What horrible fate awaited her as a vampire? She was near-paralyzed by the thought of the hideous creatures; he knew that, he _knew_ that. How could he think, how could he even consider turning her into one?! She lay there for hours, waiting and waiting, dreading every creak and noise she heard. Afternoon, then twilight arrived. She had a plan, and it was a horrible one. But it would only work if he came to her before sunset. The sun was red as blood in the west when her bedroom door finally burst open, and he came into her room wheeling her dinnertray. "Honey, I'm home!!" he greeted enthusiastically. "Good grief, what a day! You wouldn't think cutting the ribbon on the new sidewalks would turn into an all-day affair. They wanted me to stay even later, if you can believe it. Well, it's a big event, the first paved walks in Boca del Infierno. But I said no sirree Bob, nothing's going to keep me from celebrating today with my best girl." He set the tray by her bed, pausing. "Happy anniversary, my dear," he greeted. The figure in the bed cracked open her sunken, dark-shadowed eyes. Her skin was grey and clammy, her small frame buried under many quilts and nightgowns to keep off the chill. Her faded hair was tied in rags; it used to be a way to style it, now it was just to keep it out of the way when she was ill. She was a shriveled, bony, ghastly shadow of the woman he'd married. Her black eyes -- really black now, not just dark brown -- glared at him. "Damn you to hell," she growled. That wasn't for the plan she'd overheard. That was how she greeted him every morning now. He ignored that, seating himself by the bedside, unfolding her neatly-creased napkin for her. "Now, Edna, that's no way for a lady to talk," he admonished. "I'm not a lady," she snapped back. "Not anymore. You've taken care of that. There's nothing left of me but the husk." Wilkins sighed. "Oh, must you be so negative?" he asked. "We both knew this would happen sooner or later. We both knew what was in store when we took the vows -- no surprises there. True, it's come a little sooner than expected --" "You promised me it would never come at all," she pointed out savagely. If that stung him, he didn't show it. "We're together, that's the important thing," he insisted. "Just like you wanted. You know what the kids are saying these days...look for the silver lining." She stared at him in incredulous outrage. She couldn't believe this. _"I am twenty-eight years old!!"_ she screamed at him, her voice an awful, grating squawk. "Look at me, Richard -- I'm an old woman!! I'm not even human anymore thanks to you!! You --" she had to stop as she was suddenly seized by a fit of tubercular coughing. He held her still until her wracking heaves had passed. When it was over she collapsed against him, too weak to do anything else. "You're a sick, evil man," she muttered. "My father was right. I was nothing but another victim to you...another voodoo doll to practice on. How could you do this to me?" He looked down at her withered hand, which he was still clutching. "What I've done is bind us together more deeply than you'll ever understand," he muttered. "I couldn't have done this to anyone else -- I wouldn't have wanted to. You'll always be part of me now." He shifted until he was half-huddled next to her, one hand stroking her brittle hair. "Besides which...I didn't plan this," he said quietly. He almost sounded sheepish. "I thought everything was part of your plans," she grumbled. "Well, not this time." He sighed. It was a genuinely weary sound. His gaze drifted to the window, outside of which the sun was setting. "I've not given up yet, though. You shouldn't either. I've got the situation well in hand. You'll see...everything will look different in the morning. I guarantee it." His voice was unfathomably ominous as he stroked her hair. Edna Mae's chilly bones began trembling even more. He must have thought it was because she was sad. "Hey," he said suddenly, trying to cheer her, "do you remember that song the barbershop quartet was singing the day I proposed to you?" Edna closed her feverish eyes. Even in the midst of hating him, she couldn't help falling to his charms. "That ridiculous tune," she whispered. "The chewing gum song." Lord, her memory was going, she couldn't recall the name of it. "Something blushing bride...""The groom right at her side," he continued, smiling. "To the altar, as steady as Gibraltar. The bridegroom has the ring --"They were both singing softly now, her voice a raspy sigh. "It's such a pretty thing, He puts it on her finger and the choir begins to sing;  
Does the spearmint lose its flavor on the bedpost over night?  
Always paste it on your napkin if you want to be polite.  
Could you get a job as typist if you couldn't chew it right?  
Does the spearmint lose its flavor..... For a moment they were as they had been before their marriage, sweethearts singing a ridiculous love song. Edna Mae was heartbroken. She would have cut her tongue out to be that lovesick little girl again. It could have all been so different. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing. Maybe he regretted all that had passed. Perhaps he was even now reconsidering the terrible deal he had made. A shadow crossed the balcony on the east side of the room, shielded from the sunset. Edna Mae's bleary eyes widened as she saw a most horrific face outside their window, the unmistakable features of a vampire's scowl. Terror flooded her ancient body; terror and anger. She broke out of her husband's arms, cringing in disgusted fright. "You're sick, you're positively hateful," she moaned, pushing Wilkins away. "You've got what you want -- you've stolen my life from me, you're probably telling everyone that old woman upstairs is your grandmother, you're probably already courting some little tart in secret, damn you to hell!!" Tears were forming in her rhuemy eyes now. "Go on, get away from me and live your eternal life, go become Emperor of the Worms or whatever you please!! But be warned --" her voice suddenly turned sharp, and her claws clutched his hand painfully. "You won't escape my wrath," Edna Mae snarled. "I'm part of you now, you say? Then I curse you, Richard. Everything you undertake, I will ruin. Everything you touch, I will destroy. I will be watching as you make your ascent and I will watch you fall and crash and burn and I will be laughing at you, Richard...._laughing!!"_ Her voice had become the snarling, ghostly rasp that it would remain for eternity. She was grinning already, and it was a horrid sight. He wouldn't have taken that from anyone else. Normally he would never stand for an attack on his precious future plans. But instead of arguing, he shuddered. "Gee," he marveled, with a weak, nervous chuckle. "Open wound, insert salt." He actually looked hurt. But she was through feeling for him. "Just go away," she commanded. "Leave me to die in peace." And she turned her face away, weary of talking to him. The Mayor scowled down at their hands, and when he spoke, his voice was tense and full of hurt. "No, Edna," he said, "no, I'll not do that. I vowed to stay by your side until death do us part. You know I always keep my promises." With his other hand he firmly turned her chin until she was forced to look at him. "I'm not leaving you until you're dead." Edna Mae did not look comforted. He was actually going to do it, he was actually going to let that thing in their room and go through with the plan. And the worst thing was, he was going to watch. Edna's limbs were shaking so frightfully she thought she'd rattle to pieces. The Mayor sighed, as if rebounding from the strain. "So," he announced, forcing himself to smile. "I am your slave, my dear, your indentured servant from here on in. I throw myself at your feet. Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Edna Mae glared at him for a good long time. That was that. He'd driven her to this. The sun was nearly down, she had no choice now. "There is," she conceded weakly. With a sigh she looked over to the window. "The lilacs are in bloom, aren't they? I can smell them from here...just like on our wedding day. I want to see them. Take me over to the window so I can see them." She looked up at him pleadingly. Perhaps he guessed her intention. Perhaps that was why he hesitated, out of fear. Or perhaps he did it out of pure selfish cruelty. "You promised," she reminded him. But in the end, Wilkins smiled. "So I did," he agreed. "Very well, then." He got to his feet and drew back the heaped on comforters and blankets. He scooped her up in his arms -- even wrapped in a heavy shawl, she was so emaciated and frail that she weighed next to nothing -- and he carried her over to the window, setting her feet on the floorboards. The red sun blinded her for a moment, but this passed and she found herself staring out at the little town, red in the setting sun. The sky was turning that pre-twilight blue, the birds still chirped merrily. The park could be seen from the window and Edna's heart broke as she saw a couple walking there, much like she and Richard had walked on that first Sunday long ago. She put her withered claw on the rail and peered over the edge at the ribbons adorning the brand new sidewalk below. "God, smell that air!" she heard her husband exclaim. Edna Mae gripped the rail. "May God forgive you for what you've done to me, Richard," she muttered. "I never shall." Wilkins turned to her, his smile gone, knowing full well what she meant. She savored that look on his face -- fright, or as close to it as he could come. And she smiled cruelly at him, knowing that her expression, too, would be etched in his memory forever. Before he could stop her, Edna pitched forth with all her remaining strength, hurling head first over the rail. Down, down she fell, three full stories to the street below, smashing her skull all over Sunnydale's brand new cement. 

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Faith sat, unusually silent, at the end of the tale. The woman's appearance was positively grotesque now. Faith was startled to see something black and slick like oil bubble from the woman's ear and course down her neck. Absently the ghost put a shaking, rotting hand to the back of her head, rubbing her shattered skull. "If you go to the Sunnydale cemetery," she rasped, her voice shaking, "if you seek out the largest monument there, you will see that it is hers. He spared no expense. He made sure that she had a grand funeral. Naturally he had to tell everyone that it was his grandmother who had died, but make no mistake -- the unfortunate bones under that stone are those of Edna Mae. Rather than be with him, rather than suffer as a vampire, the cruel thing wouldn't even spend her last hours with him." This was spoken with dripping sarcasm. Even Faith could see that the dark woman was getting off on the Mayor's grief over his dead wife. Faith shuddered, steeling herself against a creepy melancholy. "So what?" she blurted out. "What, you want me to feel sorry for you? You dropped yourself out a window and now you're haunting the place. If you ask me, you got what you paid for." Faith hid the shake in her own voice very well. The ghost was expecting this. She threw a hot, angry smile at the girl. "We're not so different, you and I. I didn't tell you my tale to solicit your pity. The danger is as real to you as it was to me. Your own words might well be directed back at you."Faith stood, angry. "Oh, so the moral of the story is, don't trust the big bad Mayor man. Well, thanks for your concern, but --" "There is no moral!!" Edna Mae stood too, eyes glowering. She was shaking with rage -- and with glee. "You care for him. Don't lie and say you don't. I see my own heart reflected in your eyes." She reached out a bony hand and stroked Faith's face. A thoroughly evil smile peeled the ghost's lips. "Give him to me," her voice rasped, like a snake's. "I miss him so...and he misses me, though he'll not admit it, not even to himself. You'll only be doing him the kindest favor --" Faith backed off, fed up. "Screw you," she grumbled. "You know what, everyone keeps telling me to ditch this guy. 'Watch out, Faith, he's evil, he'll turn on you' -- and every single person I hear it from has screwed me over big time. The Council, the white hats... Now you want me to knock him off, and for what? Because you can't get over your own stupid lovesickness?""The only one acting stupid here is you," snapped Edna. "Have you not heard a thing I've told you? The man curses all he touches! He _is_ a curse!! Do you not know what he intends for this land, for this country...this earth?! Do you really think it'll turn out differently for you than it has for every single person unfortunate enough to cross his path? Are you an idiot as well as immature?!" Faith was _really_ not listening now. "Way to win me over," she sneered. "You're the people I oughta be trusting? You know what, he's not the one I'm scared of. He put a roof over my head. He's the only person who's ever given a damn about me. I could care less about the poor helpless victims in this town, much less the rest of the world. You ask me, you all deserve to be demon chow. Me, I can't hardly wait to see it." She grinned darkly at Edna. The ghost was grinning too -- a grisly, hateful leer. "Then you'll no doubt get your wish," she retorted slowly, sinisterly. "You are right, he does care for you. And that is the danger. His love is far deadlier than his wrath. Not only to others -- to himself as well. I do hope you'll remember this, my dear." And before Faith's eyes, the woman's form melted away, shrinking into the form of the black cat. Faith tried to catch it, but it leaped away and seemed to vanished into the dark shadows in the musty room. 

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Faith did remember. It was not until much later, when she was in a coma, relating to Buffy Summers how human weakness would bring the Mayor down, that she fully realized what the ghost of Edna Mae had been trying to get through to her, but she did indeed remember. So it was that Edna Mae finally exacted her revenge on her husband Mayor Wilkins, the man she had loved, the sorcerer who had gambled with her soul and lost, the evil man that, after all that had happened, even in death, she could not stop coming back to. She did come back to him, one last time, on the eve of his rise. She appeared to him as his Faith lay dying in a southbound truck, as he stood in the trashed apartment, staring in dread out yet another gaping window, reassuring himself that his girl would be all right. Suddenly he felt an ice cold draft wrap around his shoulders, and a presence as evil and ancient as himself drew near. "You've lost her, friend," whispered a raspy, horribly familiar voice, directly by his ear. "She belongs to Death now....as surely as if you'd given her away. Now it's you who is the grieving father." The voice degenerated into a shivery chuckle. "Can you guess where you made your mistake?" He could indeed. "The poison," he realized. He was shaken by the prospect of losing Faith, and his own voice was almost a whisper. "The blood of a Slayer. I should have known that blonde wench wouldn't sacrifice herself." He was thunderstruck by his own short-sightedness. "How could I have endangered my Faith?" He was standing before a mirror, cracked by the fight that had occured minutes before between the Slayers. He could see _her_ behind him, her white arms draped around his shoulders, her face a death-white, doll-like mask, red lips cracking in a laugh. "And just who do you think put the idea into your head?" his dead wife's voice mocked. "You said it yourself....I've always been part of you. All this time you've been growing in strength and power..._I've been getting stronger too."_ The dead eyes glittered from their dark shadows. For the first time ever in his long, unnatural life, he was afraid. "You've killed her," he murmured to his reflection. A sarcastic sneer bounced off his ear. "I saved her from you, and you know it," Edna Mae snapped. "Perhaps I've even bound her closer to you in the bargain. We'll all be one happy dead family soon enough, picnicing together in hell. You mustn't be frightened --" her voice became heated and mocking, "-- we'll be together, that's the important thing." She laughed at throwing his own words at him. "Oh, Dickie, I've waited so long...it's been so lonely waiting for you to join me. It won't be long now." Her ice cold claws tightened possessively on him. Mayor Wilkins refused to hear this. "You're mistaken," he retorted curtly, if somewhat shakily. "I won't be joining you for a long time yet. If ever. Tomorrow I see my destiny fulfilled, and the world I've made will be nothing compared to the one that is at hand." "Your world is ending," Edna's ghost insisted sweetly, nuzzling his shoulder. "You just don't know it yet. You see you are going to keep your promise to me after all." And suddenly the ghostly, rusty voice became the slightest bit softer, sadder. "Aren't I still your best girl?" The Mayor closed his eyes, and it seemed he almost shuddered. "Always," he replied quietly. A sardonic, satisfied leer split Edna's face as she clung to him in a grotesquely tender embrace. "Then come with me," her grave-cold voice invited. He remained only briefly. "Not this year," he replied determinedly, and pulled away, breaking right through her arms, which crumbled and fluttered to the floor like early frost. He walked out of the room and left her standing there armless, smiling hatefully at him and his future, before she vanished. 

* * *

##### Though based on characters created by Joss Whedon and owned by Whedon, Mutant Enemy and WB, the non-copyrighted preceding work is © Melanie Alford 1999.

Author's notes

Music I listened to while writing this story:  
The Smashing Pumpkins "Adore" CD  
Barenaked Ladies "Stunt" CD  
The Cranberries "To The Faithful Departed" CD  
The _Batman and Robin_ soundtrack  
"Was It Something That I Said?" -- Shakespears Sister  
"A Stroke of Luck" -- Garbage  
The _Crazy For You_ soundtrack -- Harry Groener I have stood on shoulders of giants and here are their names:  
Maureen Goldman and H.G.Hettinger for the suggestion of Edna's premature old age;  
Jools for explaining vampires and pregnancy;  
John Rees -- his thesis on the Mayor's Spanish pirate roots made too much sense to forget (read it [here][1])  
the alt.tv.buffy-v-slayer newsgroup  
Last but not least Harry Groener and Joss Whedon for creating such a darn cool character.   
Thanks one and all :) 

If you enjoyed this, or even if you hated it, drop me a line. [ >^..^< ][2] [Back to the Archives][3] [ Back to City Hall][4]

**

   [1]: http://x29.deja.com/=rf/[ST_rn=ap]/getdoc.xp?AN=460741562&search=thread&threaded=1&CONTEXT=947924524.934740006&hitnum=0
   [2]: mailto:catwoman@marvin.lhi2.net
   [3]: http://www.angelfire.com/mi/catwoman1/mayorfic.html
   [4]: http://www.angelfire.com/mi/catwoman1/hg3.html



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